


Brother Mine: Drabble Collection

by EternalBroZone



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Brothers, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Drabble Collection, Family Fluff, Gen, Headcanon, Mild Language, Shorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25545634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalBroZone/pseuds/EternalBroZone
Summary: Little unrelated shorts detailing my feelings, headcanons (now with a list!), and scene ideas focusing mainly on Connor and Nines. Just things that don't quite fit into my main fic. I think I said it in a comment somewhere, but they deserve the best brotherly bond.Warnings, if at all applicable, will be located at the beginning of each chapter.
Relationships: Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900
Comments: 38
Kudos: 82





	1. Affection

**Author's Note:**

> My boys ;-;

Connor knew better than to assume that he had to be loud enough to announce his presence to Nines. He could move as stealthily as he wanted, and Nines would always, always know exactly where he was and what he was doing. Even so, he slammed the door open to the house, knowing Hank had yet to return from running errands, and promptly flopped across Nines’ lap where he was sitting on the couch.

He held up his tablet to accommodate the action, but otherwise said nothing about it. Connor eventually shifted to lay more comfortably, legs hanging over the edge of the couch and his head pressed against Nines’ arm.

His brother pursed his lips. “Haven’t you ever heard of personal space?”

“I feel that it is my duty as your twin to remind you that I actually do want affection sometimes. Don’t want me looking over your shoulder? Why, what are you looking up?”

Nines’ expression betrayed nothing as he said, “Porn.”

Connor chuckled, despite himself. “In the living room? Nasty, deviant.”

“I’m actually currently looking up ‘how to explain to your father that you murdered your elder brother’,” he said, this time with an amused twitch of his lips. “I wouldn’t need any help actually killing you, of course, nor cleaning up after, nor disposing of your body—”

“But Hank would be upset,” Connor nodded sagely. “Wisdom.”

“I am the superior brother, it’s only natural.”

“God, Cyberlife made you an ass.”

“I’ll be taking credit for that myself, thank you very much.”

Hank walked in some time later, a bag of groceries thrown over his shoulder, and flipped the lights on in the living room to find his two sons passed out on the couch— Nines with his mouth wide open, tablet dangling precariously from one hand and his other settled on his brother’s arm, and Connor curled into Nines’ stomach, knees drawn up onto the couch. Each point of contact between them shone a hazy blue where their synthetic skin had peeled back. They looked peaceful.

He sighed, flicking the lights back off. They didn’t need the darkness to sleep, considering they didn’t really need to sleep, but the sight of them warmed him, and it seemed the respectful thing to do.

He guessed he’d be making his way around silently and in the dark until one of them woke up.

Damn twins.


	2. Spar

“Oh, this is nostalgic,” Connor mused, watching Nines pop his fingers one by one across the yard.

“You’re right. It’s been far too long since I’ve kicked your ass, _big brother_.”

Connor glanced around, eyebrows furrowed. “Sorry, wait just a moment— I’m trying to figure out who you think you’re talking to. I’ll have you recall with that perfect memory of yours that I won our last spar.”

“I think not. You _cheated_ in our last sparring session, and then Hank put an end to it by telling us to go inside and shower while you, however briefly, held the advantage. Seeing as he is _out_ ,” he said sharply, punctuated with one last crack of his joints and a grin bordering on intimidating, “there will be no such interruption, and thus, my victory is assured.”

“Pre-constructed the whole scenario out, have you?” Connor said lazily, leaning back on one leg.

Nines mimicked the action and tucked his hands into his back pockets. “The only thing I need to pre-construct is how I’m going to celebrate the only logical outcome.”

He laughed. “Cocky, aren’t you? Well, time to put your hardware where your trash-talking mouth is. Let’s do this.”

“Sure you’re ready?”

“I was _made_ for this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who wins, I wonder...


	3. Hank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originality? Don't know her--

“God, let me tell you, sobriety? Easy. Two android sons? Not a chance.”

“What did they do this time?”

“I tried to embarrass them— you know, I’m their fuckin’ dad, I should get to embarrass them! But they just…”

“Have fun playing with your little friends, boys!” Hank shouted out the car window, grinning. “I lo—ove you!”

They were silent for less than half a second— he saw them look at each other, saw Nines’ LED flash yellow and then spin back to its normal blue, and then they both raised one hand to wave back. Connor’s smile was bright enough to create shadow, and even Nines allowed a little upturn at the corners of his mouth. They spoke in unison, like they always did when they were trying to creep him out.

“We love you, too, dad!”

He clicked his tongue, averting his eyes.

“Little assholes—”

The break room burst into raucous laughter. Somebody clapped him on the shoulder, and even worse, that same somebody had the audacity to quote a TV show from his younger days right to his face:

“That’s rough, buddy.”


	4. Oh No

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: descriptions of violence, emotional trauma, off-screen character death
> 
> So, I do... have an explanation for this...

“No, stop! Leave him alone!”

_Crack!_

Tears pricked at his eyes— they streamed down his face before he even knew what was happening. “Please—”

Another hit, and something shattered from across the room. His scan was mostly intact, despite it all:

Chance of survival: 9%

“Get away from him!” He tugged on his restraints— pointless, he knew. They’d been designed for him. He had to try anyway. “Leave him alone, that’s my brother!”

“What, this thing?”

“I’ll kill you,” he choked out, voice icy thin and deadly. “You’d better pray I never get out of here, because I will end your life. It will be violent, it will be _painful_ , and I will ensure it. You have my word.”

“I’m so scared,” the man drawled, rolling his eyes.

He sobbed in the darkness, feeling the thirium gel on his skin. A sound escaped him that he hadn’t known he could produce: a tortured, body-wracking scream; a soft, broken sob. “Connor, Connor… My big brother… Please…!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And instead of writing my main fic, I produce a very sad ficlet with no transitions or explanation.
> 
> I was thinking about, uh, The Last of Us II??? That's... that's my only defense. My bad.


	5. Library

It was probably something in the way the rain was falling just beyond the porch outside, or the weight of the book in his hand, or maybe he was just growing tired— Connor had essentially trapped him in the living room for hours now as he spoke, scribbling notes pointlessly for a speech that was already perfect. His brother had read the thing to him over and over, only ever adjusting minute details that would never matter to anyone but him. He was just like that, and Nines knew that. Something like fondness swirled in his system, watching Connor pace back and forth across the room as he agonized over the words of his presentation. Nines himself hadn’t said anything in quite a while; he wondered if Connor had forgotten his presence completely until—

“Nines, are you even listening to me? This is important. Markus asked me to write this for the people at Jericho, and it has to be perfect.”

Rolling his eyes, Nines uncurled himself from his position on the couch. He approached his brother easily and set a hand on his shoulder to interface, making sure to send across the intensity of whatever emotions were writhing around in his gut— _perfection, pride, love, exasperation, faith_ — before popping him in the forehead with his book.

Connor frowned, expression shifting in his usual muted ways before eventually settling on ‘amusement’. “You think so, huh?”

Thunder rolled in the background. “I wouldn’t tell you otherwise.”

“I know, I know. Fine,” Connor sighed, waving his hand. “I suppose you can go, then. You’re of no more use to me here.”

Nines snickered. Before he could make it too far, Connor’s hand on his back stilled him, and he prepared himself for the overwhelm of an interface, only for his brother to say, “I love you, too, Nine Hundred. Thank you.”

“ _Gross._ ” He ducked his head, glad Connor couldn’t actually see his face. He was sure that his expression would give him away as being pleased, despite the disgust he was forcing into his voice. “I’m leaving now, so you can keep the rest of your nastiness to yourself, thank you very much. Bye.”

Connor’s laugh settled warmly in his system as he walked away, determined to be anywhere but there. Connor would do fine. He always did.


	6. Exclusively Headcanon Central Station

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General headcanons, and way too many! It's basically an info dump! Yay!
> 
> Slightly Nines-centric??? But it's fairly general. I split my attention.

Connor found Nines on a later exploration of Cyberlife’s records and was the one to activate him. He went through his system before he did, and wiped the part of the garden’s program that housed Amanda. He remains unaware that she was ever there. He was woken up as a deviant.

Nines is prone to sensory overloads, and while he’s capable of working past them, it does result in some odd or avoidant behaviors. He doesn’t like the feeling of anybody in his head, with the possible exception of Connor, and doesn’t care for the ways that androids tend to express affection, as they require more mental resources. Physical touch grounds him, and is an effective distraction from his constantly running mind, so he prefers human-like gestures of affection.  
Connor, on the other hand, has a tendency to be rather touch avoidant, preferring the ways of communicating and expressing affection that humans can’t emulate. It keeps him fairly isolated, even among the android community, but physical contact _burns_ in a way he knows it shouldn’t. He thinks it was a result of Cyberlife making his nervous system too sensitive, though with Nines as his only point of reference, he can’t be sure.  
They have both grown in how much they care for the other that they are more than willing to accommodate the others’ needs, even if it gets to be too much on their end.

He likes the snow and cold, and finds it very calming. It slows everything down, which he enjoys, and it is a beauty more along the lines of his own aesthetic— though completely natural. He’ll often sit outside in the snow until he absolutely has to go somewhere warmer, just so that he can watch the snow as long as possible. 

He was designed to improve upon Connor in almost every way, and while they did keep his social modules intact, Nines does have a harder time making use of them than Connor, especially in uses outside his intended function. Where Connor comes across as a little awkward and without much of a filter, Nines manages to appear blunt and uncaring— more like a robot just following his protocols. He chalks it up to his sharper appearance, though that doesn’t make him hate it any less.

Nines liked Hank almost immediately upon meeting him, though with Hank’s (not unreasonable, nor unexpected) initial hesitance around someone that looked remarkably like the one he’d taken to calling “son”, they took a while to warm up to each other. Nines was concerned that Hank didn’t like him, and often shied away from interactions with him so that Hank wouldn’t have to be uncomfortable. Connor had a conversation with Hank one night while Nines had elected to stay overnight at the station about it going too far, and he made an effort to get to know him afterward. They have a close familial bond nowadays, especially now that Hank has accepted that Connor sees Nines as a brother, not a replacement. 

They call Hank by his name most of the time, though he can also be “dad” depending on the situation. He, in turn, refers to Connor as “son” and Nines as “kid”— together, he’ll call them his “fuckin’ twins”.   
They have a series of nicknames for each other, usually simple spins on their model number, with varying degrees of use. “Nines” is a nickname in and of itself, but he uses it as his given name because he doesn’t like to go by “Connor”, his actual name. It goes almost entirely unused. They call each other “brother” more often than not.  
Connor calls Nines “Nine Hundred” when he’s feeling particularly fond. His favorite well-meaning insult is “ass”.  
Nines reserves use of the name “Eights” for extreme situations, when he needs to get his brother’s attention or compliance. It has become more effective over time, and now he folds almost immediately upon hearing it. It is rarely used, but when it is, he know that it’s important. “Deviant” is how he affectionately insults Connor, though turnabout is fair play with that one.

Connor is Nines’ favorite person. He is grateful to him and looks up to him. They tease each other a lot, in a manner not unlike human siblings, but Nines has a lot of respect for his older brother, and Connor is nothing but fond of Nines. They’re very close, sometimes in unexpected ways.

Nines is, obviously, taller than Connor by several inches, slightly more angular, and has blue eyes. He has been described as “sharp” before, with all of its connotations. He has a mild to moderate case of “resting bitch face”. He was designed more for combat than his brother, and as such, is the better fighter when the metric is skill. He used to try and soften his appearance— wearing over-sized clothing, mussing his hair, and keeping his expression carefully pleasant— but found the mental strain and discomfort to be too much, so he doesn’t bother anymore. He prefers tighter, form-fitting clothing in black or white, as it makes him feel good, and finds a kind of security out of having his neck covered. He feels very exposed in anything that exposes his clavicle.  
Connor was designed for human integration, and as a negotiator. His body is a bit shorter, and his face is slightly rounder, with bigger eyes to make him more likable, but he is also more generally athletic than Nines, with more experience and a better capacity to adapt. He prefers his clothing along the business-casual to professional spectrum, favoring simple jackets and nice, dark jeans. He has been known to wear a suit for no apparent reason.  
They both find Hank’s usual attire abhorrent.

He kept his LED despite everything because he thinks it helps people read him better. He is mistaken.  
Connor got rid of his LED in an attempt to blend in with the humans. It only works sometimes. It doesn’t help that he is somewhat recognizable.

Nines likes kinesthetic activities like dancing, though only in private. He also likes things that require less conscious thought on his part, like knitting and sculpting with clay, as they provide distractions from his busy mind. He doesn’t particularly care for mental exercises, as he thinks they’re pointless, though he is _capable_ of them, and he can’t stand certain sounds or textures— for instance, the sound of shattering ceramic or glass. Sky and people-watching rank high on his list of favorite activities. He enjoys reading, but only for fun.  
Connor enjoys a wide range of activities, from puzzles to cooking to sports (Nines will occasionally join a basketball practice, and often begrudgingly accepts Connor’s offer to play Frisbee so that it’s not just him and Sumo. These games get _intense_.), and there doesn’t seem to be much of a pattern with things he enjoys. He finds it unpleasant to sit still for too long out of stasis, and keeps busy with his calibration coin, other handheld puzzles, or fidget objects. He dislikes roses and snow, for obvious reasons, and also things like swimming, for no reason other than he doesn’t like them. He goes on runs frequently. He likes spending time with his loved ones in whatever form he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to end this by saying that I am currently accepting requests for this continuity, if anybody's interested! I reserve the right to not work myself to death on them, and there are certain restrictions I have, but the offer has been made.


	7. Injury _ Hazane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for blood and off-screen violence, possible horror themes. Enjoy!

“… Nines?”

He forced himself from stasis mode at the first soft call of his name, scanning around immediately. 

Voice analysis: RK800-51, Connor, brother. His voice had come from the bathroom. Quiet, so as not to disturb Hank, but choked, obviously worried— perhaps in pain. His first thought was that his brother had woken up from a nightmare again. He shuffled the blanket off of himself and stood up. Scanned again.

There was blood on the floor— blue. Thirium. Analysis: RK800-51, Connor, brother. Location: back door to bathroom.

Nines felt his chest constrict, panic rushing through his system. He crossed the house to where he’d heard Connor’s voice just as it called out again, a weak cry that _hurt_ to listen to.

“Nines?”

Was he hurt, was he in danger, was he upset, was he—

“I’m here—” He tried the door, only to find it locked. He barely resisted the urge to snap it, placing a palm to the frame and inhaling, shaky. “Connor, I’m here. Let me in.”

There was the sound of shuffling, and then Connor opened the door, reaching out lightning fast to pull him into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. Nines barely had time to register that there was thirium on his jacket before he met Connor’s teary eyes and promptly wiped his mind of everything that wasn’t his brother.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.” He had the audacity to smile, despite the fact that he was crying, and bleeding, and holding his own _skull_ in trembling hands. His face was intact, though blood ran down the sides, but the rear part of his head was decidedly not attached to his body, partially revealing the wires and other mechanics inside. His eyes kept flickering blue, a shade dangerously close to his own. “But my, uh, my motor functions are a bit impaired, and I need— I need you to put this back. Please. I can’t... Can’t get it in the right position to attach.”

All Nines could do was silently nod in horror. His brother beamed, holding it out to him and turning for easier access. The fix was surprisingly easy, and all he had to do was set it gently— oh so gently, god, that was Connor’s _head_ — in place, letting the connectors inside take over and do their job. Once it was in, Connor stopped shaking, and one solid blink had his eyes returning to their usual shade of warm brown.

He smiled again. Nines thought he might throw up. “Thanks! You can go back to sleep, sorry to bother you.”

“Connor,” he managed, voice barely audible, “what happened?”

“Hm?”

“I’ll rephrase. You’re damaged— _who did this to you_?”

Connor was silent for fractions of a millisecond too long. “Nobody. You don’t need to worry.”

Nines nearly blew up. “I just had to replace your skull, Connor!”

“Shh! Hank is sleeping—”

“And you have some nerve to tell me not to worry,” he hissed, glaring. “You may have been designed as a detective, but you’re not nearly as good a liar as I am. You’d better tell me the truth, or I will be exercising some of my more violent capabilities once I find out on my own. I was built to murder, brother, and I can and will kill someone for hurting you. If you don’t tell me, I may lose my thin layer of self-control by having to find out the hard way.”

“No, no, calm down,” Connor frowned, grabbing the inside of Nines’ forearm. The blue smeared across his fingers and up his arms had Nines taking a deep breath and biting his own lip to steady himself. “I dealt with it. It was just some kids, okay, they pulled a prank and I walked into it. They didn’t know they had calculated the acceleration of the board wrong, or that it would have been immediately lethal to any human that walked through it. I’m glad I fell victim to it and not somebody else. I assure you, the sight of me holding my own detached body parts while giving them a lecture on the dangers of miscalculations scared them far worse than jail would. But not worse than an intimidating android with my face hell-bent on a revenge killing. Okay?”

Nines crumbled forward, pulling Connor into a tight hug as his resolve faded and left only the residual panic and concern. He swallowed a sob, curling around his brother as much as was possible while standing. “I was so worried, Eights, I thought— someone had maliciously attacked you, or, or— why, why didn’t you go to a technician? Why didn’t you _call_ me?”

“Technician’s closed,” he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Plus, I hate going to the technician, and you were supposed to be asleep. I didn’t want to wake you up for a non-life-threatening injury.”

“There’s an emergency 24 hour technician and you know it, and don’t you dare ever tell me to my face again that you wouldn’t wake me up for something that isn’t immediately life-threatening,” Nines growled. “You are my brother, and I _love_ you, and I would deviate all on my own if it meant I could help you. So don’t you dare.”

Connor glanced away, seeming a bit ashamed. “Oh. Okay.”

“Give me your word,” he managed. He was exhausted. “Promise me that you’ll ask me for help sooner next time. You didn’t need to do this all on your own.”

He nodded. “… Yeah, I promise, Nines. Thank you.”

They stood there silently for another moment before Connor huffed out a chuckle.

Nines frowned. “What?”

“I’d like to ask for your help,” he said, grin widening. “I really need to clean all this up before Hank notices.”

“You get to do that on your own, I’m afraid. I’m going back to sleep.”

“Aw, but Nines—”

“I’m leaving now. Good night. And good luck with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to user Hazane for the idea! I hope you like it!


	8. Flu Season _ WayWardWonderer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Illness, Hank's Foul Mouth

Hank woke up and sneezed so hard he slammed his head on the bed frame, and that was really what had started it all.

His resulting cry of pain had summoned both his boys— Nines first, on account of his slightly longer legs, and then Connor, both at his side before he even knew what was going on. He sniffed, rubbing the back of his head with one hand and waving them off with another.

“Get the fuck out, I’m fine, I’m fine, I said. God, I did not sign up for two overbearing mother hens when I took you in,” Hank grumbled. He watched them glance at each other through his watery eyes, the pressure in his head already grating on his nerves. He hurt, and from more than just hitting his head. “Didn’t I just tell you two to leave?”

Connor frowned, and he just knew that if he’d still had his LED, it would be cycling yellow. “Hank… I think you’re sick.”

“I’m not sick,” he said, punctuated by a loud sneeze. He sniffled, regarding the window and wondering if he could outrun the both of them. Not likely. “You don’t know shit about humans being sick, get off my back.”

Nines folded his arms. “Dad.”

Hank groaned, leaning back down to his pillow. He had already resigned himself to it— when Nines pulled out the big guns and called him ‘Dad’, he knew he was in for it.

“No chance I’m getting out of bed today, huh?”

“Not one.” Nines examined his fingernails carefully, then looked to Connor. “There’s been a localized outbreak of the flu in the suburbs surrounding Detroit. Doctors are recommending increased fluid intake, medications, and a humidifier to ease the symptoms. Possibly an anti-viral, though with Hank’s immune system and, more importantly, his liver looking the way it does—”

“Can you just shut up about my liver? I quit drinking already, I don’t need to hear about it—”

“— I’m quite certain that he meets the qualifications for somebody that is ‘at-risk’, so we need to be careful about that.”

Connor flipped his coin in his hand a few times. “I’ve already contacted Fowler and let him know that you’ll be out of work for several days, as you’re contagious. Nines, he is asking that you or I come in his stead tomorrow. However, seeing as today is our day off…”

“That leaves you all the time in the world to piss me off more,” Hank exhaled, frowning. “Look, will you two just go? This is far from my first flu season, I’ll just sleep it off and be fine in a few days. You really don’t need to be here.”

“We want to be here,” Connor blinked. “We want to take care of you.”

“I’d rather not have to take care of you, but seeing as you can’t be trusted to take care of yourself—”

“Nines, what if you just shut the fuck up,” Hank glared.

“It’s not possible, I have tried,” Connor said, equal parts condescending and sympathetic. Truly a combination that only he could manage. “Regardless, you’re our dad, and we— or at least, I— want you around as long as possible. If that means taking care of you when you’re sick, then we’ll bring you as much water and soup as you can manage, probably more, and we’ll stay here by your side until you’re better. To my understanding, it’s no fun being sick, let alone by yourself.”

Hank groaned. If he could have rolled his eyes without the sinus pressure threatening to pop them out, he definitely would have. “It’s just the flu, kids, I’m not gonna die. I just feel like I’m gonna die, that’s all.”

“Be that as it may.” Nines pursed his lips. “I’m going to bring you some water, and I do expect you to drink it. Would you like something to occupy yourself? A book, perhaps, or the record player?”

“I’ll go make soup,” Connor sighed. “I might also be able to throw together some kind of home decongestant, though medical-strength would be better.”

“I have faith in you,” Hank said dryly. He looked to Nines and scrunched his nose. “No, just— where’s my phone?”

Nines tossed it to him from where it had been charging on the nightstand. “I’ll be back shortly. Don’t do anything unnecessary.”

“We wouldn’t want you to strain yourself,” Connor chirped, following his brother out of the room.

Hank considered for the second time that day escaping through the window. He sighed, long-suffering.

“Cheeky bastards.”

  
Hank opened his eyes to the hazy dimness of what he would describe as ‘something like ass o’clock in the morning’, head throbbing and uncomfortably warm. He could barely breathe. He tugged his arm out from under whatever had pinned it down and found that Nines had settled himself in a chair alongside the bed and was fast asleep— or in stasis, or whatever they called it— with his LED a relaxed blue, cycling on and off like he was breathing. He craned his head, and sure enough, Connor had crawled into bed with him and was latched around his other arm, nose just barely brushing against his shoulder with how curled up he was.

Long-cold chicken soup sat on the nightstand alongside an empty glass that had been water at one point— the humidifier that one of them had bought puttered gently in the background. He sighed, letting his eyes fall shut again. An increasingly-familiar warmth bloomed in his chest, and he reached over, carding his fingers through Nines’ hair.

“Fuckin’ twins.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to WayWardWonderer for this idea-- I couldn't pass up an opportunity to have my boys taking care of their local anger dad. I hope you like it!


	9. Injury II _ Sakuraya

“Detroit Police! Open up!”

“Oh,” Nines remarked to the three unconscious androids behind him as he sat cross-legged on the table. “They’re here.”

He scooped up the six hands that he had been examining as the officers burst their way through the door, Hank and Connor close on their heels. They checked the rest of the house for safety, clearing each room before they made it into the kitchen.

“Nines! Nines,” Hank called, reaching out to him. He stepped off the table, dropping the bag of hands into Hank’s arms on his way out, ignoring the buzzing in his head. “Kid, are you alright? … Are these hands?”

“I’m fine,” he said. Not quite true. “They didn’t touch me.” Another half truth.

Connor came up behind him, and his hand on his shoulder muted the buzzing almost instantly. He resisted the urge to fall to his knees. “Nines, talk to me.”

Despite himself, he leaned into the contact, eyes falling shut. It was quiet. “They’re not dead, just unconscious. They did try their best to achieve the former, though, by attempting to fight me. The officers will have found the ice by now. Am I needed for a statement?”

“You’re needed,” Connor said gently. Nines didn’t think he was talking about the official statement— the way his fingers tightened around the shoulder of his jacket, or how his other hand came up to hold his, gave him the impression that it was something else. “You’re _needed_ , Nines. You were reckless today, rushing in here alone. I don’t want to lose you.”

The lie rolled off his lips. “I’m fine.”

“You could easily have not been.”

“I want to go home, Connor.” He opened his eyes. Static pushed at the edges of his vision. He blinked, and it cleared. “… Please.”

Connor frowned, seeming somehow unconvinced. Nines knew he wouldn’t push it, though. Not right now. His brother nodded silently, and they walked out of the house together, joined at the hand.

  
It was so loud.

The noise was unlike the usual mental noise he was subjected to just by existing— this static, whatever it was, was preventing him from focusing. He couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t do anything but feign (was it faking if it really felt like) a sensory overload. He’d been on the couch in the dark for hours, noise-canceling headphones pressed over his ears and only serving to amplify the sounds that had been running through his head for three days. He couldn’t hear anything else.

Just static, _static—_

He had to be up before Connor and Hank got home. He didn’t need them to know that something had happened. He didn’t need them to worry, not about him.

‘I have to be up. Have to get up.’ It would be mere minutes before they got back. He forced himself to sit up, and the edges of his vision faded in and out. He stumbled over to the light— flipped it on, and immediately slammed his own head into the wall in an attempt to shield himself from the blinding brightness of it. This had to be pain, it had to be the closest an android like him could come to experiencing pain, because all he could think was, ‘It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, _it hurts_ —’

He shoved his headphones under the chair and dragged himself to his feet. He hoped he wasn’t swaying.

The door clicked open. “Oh, Nines, I didn’t know you were home.”

“I came home a bit early,” he managed, leaning back against the arm of the couch. “How was work for you two?”

“It was fine,” Hank sighed. He puttered through the living room, petting Sumo a few times before making his way back to his room to change out of his work clothes.

Nines pretended like he didn’t notice Connor looking at him. He’d been on edge ever since the drug bust that Nines had lead, and he knew that his brother was onto him. He was good, not that good. He could hardly move.

“Are you okay? You seem tense.”

“Just peachy,” Nines said, blinking. The static didn’t go away. “Are you okay? You’re being particularly spacey.”

Connor smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m just thinking, that’s all. Maybe I’m just being sentimental.”

Maybe he was as much a liar as Nines was. “Gross.”

“Nines, come here, I want to give you a hug.”

The thought that the dreaded noise might go away like it had last time he touched Connor rang bright and clear at the front of his mind. He didn’t trust his knees to get him the few steps to the door. Unease settled somewhere in his gut. Time to deflect. “I don’t want a hug.”

“You always want a hug,” Connor grinned, tucking his fingers into his pockets. His smile warped into something a little less bright, a little more tired. “You can’t walk, can you?”

“I can walk,” he replied instantly— too fast. He took a breath. “I’m fine, I just don’t want anyone touching me.” Lies, lies, he wanted the sound to go away, he wanted his _brother_ —

“Nines.”

He sighed, sliding off the arm of the couch. He took one step— good— and then another, and his knees failed him, buckling as the noise intensified with movement. He drew his hands up to his ears.

Connor caught him before he hit the ground, and the second he came into contact with Connor’s hands, the static eased. He wanted to cry. Maybe he was.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. Take a deep breath. I need you to tell me what’s going on,” Connor murmured, moving Nines’ hand so that he could trace the line of his LED with his thumb. “Nines, tell me what’s going on.”

“ _I’m fine_ ,” he shook his head.

“You’re not. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t think, I—” Nines trailed off, then blinked, bleary. “I don’t know what’s going on, it’s so loud. Connor, it’s so loud, and my vision is blurry, and I can’t walk. It’s so loud, it won’t stop.”

Connor gently pressed his hand across his eyes. “How long?”

“Days. I don’t— since the, the drug bust. Those androids. One of them touched me before I could disable them, and—”

“Okay. I need you to let me interface with you so that I can figure out what’s causing this.” Connor shifted so that the hand that had been supporting his back could grab Nines’. “Will you let me?”

“It’s quieter when you’re here,” Nines managed, dazed. He accepted the request to interface and let Connor sort through his memories and feelings. He felt him tuck some things away that shouldn’t have been there, and the sound eased further. When Connor found the source of whatever had been torturing him, Nines felt more than heard him say it. He felt his brother’s slowly building anger at it.

“Disruptor,” Connor said, closing out the interface.

It was mercifully silent.

“Did you get rid of it?”

“I expelled it from your system. It won’t be hurting you anymore,” he exhaled. “How do you feel?”

He hummed, focusing most of his attention on Connor’s thumb, still circling his LED in slow, soothing motions. “… It’s quiet.”

“Good.”

Nines took a slow breath. “Thank you. I don’t know how you did that— I couldn’t find it. I looked.”

“I was designed to hunt things,” he replied lightly. “It’s what I’m good at. But, Nines…”

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything sooner? I could have spared you that—”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” Connor sighed. “But that doesn’t fix the problem.”

“I’ll do better.”

“I don’t want you to do better, Nines, I want you to trust me.”

He shook his head. “Of course, I… I trust you with my life. But can we talk about this later? I just want to rest for a while.”

Connor didn’t say anything— he just nodded, holding Nines to his chest like his presence was a lifeline. Nines closed his eyes. He could hear the shifting inside his chest, constant and relaxing. Alive, he reminded himself. Needed.

He let himself drift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Sakuraya for the prompt! I decided to go with something a little more internal for Nines, since they don't technically feel pain; I hope I managed to get it across well. Thanks again!
> 
> Edit: We're officially closing requests for now due to most of my attention being taken up by another project. Thanks to those who participated!


	10. Close Your Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for implied character death.
> 
> \---
> 
> Virtual cookie to whoever guesses what inspired this one!
> 
> ... it's not hard, you all get a virtual cookie.
> 
> It was a fun little angsty plot bunny, though. I am very sorry.

He barely noticed it— just one light out of place, blinking yellow instead of red like it should have been. He glanced inside the airlock and the world stopped. Somebody was sitting in the corner, head buried in their hands. He hit the ‘cancel’ button frantically, only to be met with an error message. No good. Somebody had sabotaged the lock.

He sucked in a panicked breath, pressing his face to the glass in an attempt to identify who was trapped. He couldn’t radio for help, he couldn’t do anything— not without the engineer who built the place, and she was already dead.

Focus, focus. Who was inside? Who would have done this?

A shock of brown hair, not unlike his own, and pale, trembling fingers visible through the holes in blue and gray gloves. He knew those gloves. He knew that hair.

His heart stopped with a painful throb.

“No, no, no! Wait!” His hand slammed against the glass once, twice. “Nines!”

The noise drew his brother’s attention, and he looked up, eyes glassy with unshed tears. He looked away for just long enough to wipe at his eyes before standing, knees shaking, and making his way over to the door. He placed the flat of his hand against the glass, a soft smile pulling at his lips.

Connor jammed his finger into the control panel once more. “You need to get out of there, I can’t open it!”

Nines didn’t move except to shake his head, smile growing more and more sad. His face was paler than it should have been, even in the dim lighting. He glanced over at his own trembling fingers. Tears spilled over Connor’s cheeks as he placed his own hand where Nines’ was, separated only by shatter-resistant glass.

“Nines… Nines, please…”

The light inside shifted from white to red. Nines didn’t move. He only smiled at him, as bright as it ever was, like nothing at all was wrong— like he wasn’t about to die. He mouthed something.

Connor shook his head. “It’s not, it’s not! Please! Somebody help!”

Nines tapped the glass once to draw his attention, ignoring what must have been a countdown. Connor sobbed, gasping for air. He mouthed again.

‘Everything will be alright.’

“No—”

‘It’s okay. Close your eyes, Con. Count to ten. Everything will be fine.’

“No! Nines!”

Nines glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows drawn together. He took a shuddering breath and then turned back to Connor.

‘I love you, Con.’

The entire ship went dark— he heard the unmistakable sound of whooshing air, and then…

The lights came back on. Nothing had changed, but Nines was gone.

Connor fell to his hands and knees, the hot pressure of snot and tears building between his eyes as he let out a guttural, breathless scream.

He hoped everybody heard it. He hoped everybody could figure out that his only remaining tie to the world had just been severed, and he hoped they were afraid.

They should be very afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want somebody to write an entire story based on this, please, and I'd like it now, without having to do it myself. I'm rather focused on Chasing Nonconformity right now, despite the fact that I seem to be able to write anything but that. We'll get there one day.
> 
> But seriously, though. Among Us AU. Lots of angst. Somebody, anybody, please. Send it to me.


End file.
